


Malik and The Shirt

by StoryTimeTheCreed



Category: Altair Ibn La Ahad - Fandom, Assassin's Creed, Malik Al Sayf - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23060191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoryTimeTheCreed/pseuds/StoryTimeTheCreed
Summary: Malik's the type of guy that you love from afar. He's just so much cooler, smarter, and more interesting than you. How does one get onto his radar?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Malik and The Shirt

She watched Malik move around the other Assassin before tapping his back. The Assassin growled and spun over, but Malik was already gone and now facing his front.

“Face me like a man, Malik!” The Assassin demanded, whirling his blade and missing Malik’s head.

She watched with a smile on her face. His victorious smile, that gleam in his eye…

A shadow moved to her right, and she tensed. Altaïr bit into an apple, the juice misting around his mouth, and he stared at Malik, nodding.

“Good technique, don’t you think?” He munched. She didn’t speak at first, unsure if he was talking to her, but when he turned her way and raised a brow, she nodded. He looked back at the training ring, a smirk on his lips.

She eyed that smirk with squinted eyes, and he turned to her with a smile. “Or were you too busy just watching Malik?”

She went red, and looked away. “I don’t know what you’re implying, Altaïr.”

“I’m not implying anything.” He chuckled, and they both watching for a few seconds before she gulped.

“So, what’s Malik like?” Her voice was more timid than she wanted. She’d seen the duo all around Maysaf, and they were widely known for their skills and friendship. They were trouble makers, but they were who everyone wanted with them in a fight.

“Malik is…” Altaïr cupped his chin, and mock thought. His golden eyes watched her the whole time, and he chuckled to himself at her discomfort. He’d known Malik had been watching this woman for some time, always too scared to talk to her, but always talking about her. So he did the only thing he could do.

“Malik is an amazing man. A great protector, and excellent friend.”

“Really?” Her eyes brightened, and he concealed his smile.

“Yes.”

“He looks a bit stern.” She admitted, and Altaïr laughed. They both watched the ring again, and Malik danced out of reach of the man.

“Don’t let that deter you.”

The man, frustrated, grabbed Malik’s folded sleeve, the one where is he no longer had his arm, and pulled him to the ground. Malik landed with a thud, and the man landed on top of him. She tensed as the man bared his teeth in a triumphant grin.

“What’s this? The Great Malik on his back? Has the loss of your arm effected your manhood more or your fighting style?”

She tensed and made a move towards the fight, but Altaïr placed a hand in her way. He shook his head when she looked at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. She turned back to the ring, and watched as Malik kicked the man backwards. He jumped up, little bellows of dust at his feet, and he walked to the groaning man, placing his boot on his chest.

“You tell me.” Malik walked out of the ring, and towards Altaïr. The crowd cheered behind him, but Malik didn’t seem to notice. He nodded to her, but kept his eyes on his friend. “You ready?”

“When you are.” He clasped Malik’s forearm, and gestured to her. “Malik, I believe you know (Y/N).” She smiled and extended her hand, unaware that Altaïr even knew her name.

“Nice to meet you.” He kept a straight face, but his mouth twitched from the smile he was hiding.

“We were going into town for Malik’s birthday, would you like to join?” Altaïr smiled, looking hopeful, but she shook her head.

“Maybe next time. I’m sorry” She smiled, and looked at Malik. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, and ran his hand through his hair.

“Sorry I didn’t get you anything.” She teased, and they both laughed. Altaïr looked between them, pouting from the lack of attention.

“Hey!” He threw an arm around Malik and grinned. “It’s not too late. Malik is a practical man, so a practical gift would be handy.”

Malik shrugged him off, glaring at him. “No. She doesn’t have to get me anything.”

“If I find something practical, then I’ll remember to bring it for you.” She interrupted, and Malik smiled at this. Altaïr complained about the time, so they bid each other farewell, and separated. Once they were out of sight, she pulled her hood over her face and hid her smile.

Once she calmed down, she watched their retreating figures. It was Malik’s birthday, and she knew exactly what he’d like.

••••

Malik walked through the dark, using the light of the of torches on the walls for guidance. His door loomed before him, and he found a box abandoned at his feet. He looked around, but found no one. With a smile, he bent to retrieve the box. It was a small thing wrapped in a ribbon, and his smile grew as he knew who’d dropped it off.

••••

“How was your night?” She asked happily, and Altaïr groaned, hanging his head and hiding his face. “Long?”

“Yes. Now stop yelling.” He grumbled.

“I’m not.” She retorted, and looked away at the training ring. Malik strode into the ring with a smirk on his face. He wore a black shirt with the fabric tailored over his other arm. The fabric was closed and double stitched, so she knew the other Assassin wouldn’t be able to pull it loose and use it against him again. Malik tilted his head, cracking it, before leaping into the ring.

He looked towards her and smiled, but then he looked at the Assassin. The fight began, and the man went straight for Malik’s bad arm. When the trick from the previous day didn’t work, Malik punched his ribs. When the man looked down to groan, Malik kneed his face, and the man threw his face back. Once this happened, Malik swiftly kicked at the man, and sent him flying to the ground.

The fight was over, and she cheered loudly. This was the fastest fight she’d ever seen, and the crowd cheered with her.

“I’m going to have to kill all of you for some peace and quiet, aren’t I?” Altaïr groaned, looking up at the fight, but she ignored him.

“Whooo! Good job, Malik!!” She clapped, and yelled. Malik found her voice to the crowd easily. He bashfully smiled and waved.

“About time Abbas got what he deserved.” Altaïr smirked, and squinted his eyes. “Where’d he get that shirt?” When she didn’t answer, he looked at her, a small smile growing before he looked back at his friend.

“I want one too.”


End file.
